Page:Poems Chandler.djvu/35

Ah! once the roof was a prison,
 My mind and the sky were free,
My thoughts with the birds went flying,
 And my hopes were a heaven to me.

Now I come from the limitless distance
 Where I followed my youth's wild will,
Where they press the wine of delusion
 That you drink and are thirsty still;

And I know why the bird with the springtime
 To the gnarled old tree comes back,—
He has tried the south and the summer,
 He has felt what the sweet things lack.

So I come with a sad contentment,
 With eyes that are changed I see:
The roof means peace, not a prison,
 And heaven smiles down on me.